Barmaid
by silverjigsaw
Summary: Rosie Cotton has just begun work at the Green Dragon, and she can't help notice a certain someone...
1. A Fresh

**Barmaid**

I don't own Lord of the Rings and all that jazz, because I am no Tolkien. Also, this is based entirely on the movies. I haven't finished _Return of the King_ yet, so I don't really know how they got together and whatnot. I have to go on what the movie says. And the movie? Is quality. So there. Enjoy.

-_The Author_

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"_Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It'll be spring soon. And the orchards will be in blossom. And the birds will be nesting in the hazel thicket. And they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields and eating the first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries?"_

"_No, Sam. I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water, nor the touch of grass. I'm... naked in the dark. There's... there's nothing. No veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him... with my waking eyes."_

"_Then let us be rid of it, once and for all. Come on, Mr. Frodo. I can't carry it for you, but I can carry you."_

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On her first day of work, Rosie wore green. It seemed fitting at the time; she was going to work for the Green Dragon, after all. And, she found, the name was appropriate; for its customers, green-faced, and for its love matches, green-eyed or green-hearted, all fierce as a dragon.

Her uncle Will was great friends with an Olo Toadfoot, whose wife Autumn was a barmistress for the Green Dragon. When Olo mentioned that they needed some help down there at that old inn, her uncle Will mentioned that he happened to have a little farmgirl niece in her late tweens who was never able to leave the house much.

"I do worry," said Will. "Such a pretty lass and no one to show it off to."

Fortunately Olo connected the dots, rather than thought Will was talking about his family's own small set of misfortunes. "Really? Is she a hardworking lass?"

"Hardest working I've seen," said Will. "Strong, too." He flexed his fingers to demonstrate.

So Olo mentioned the idea to his wife Autumn that afternoon, and Autumn suggested it to the pub's proprietor, Drogo Millstone, during work, and Millstone brought it up with Farmer Cotton that night, who proposed the idea to Rosie over dinner, who went down with her father the very next day to interview. Millstone was impressed with Rosie's easy grace and entranced by her smile. She started the very next day.

Grace, ease, and pretty smiles were some help with the customers. The hard part, it turned out, were the customers themselves. They were a rowdy bunch, always singing their songs at the top of their lungs while hapless new barmaids tried to listen to drink orders. Autumn was some help. She kept an eye on Rosie, and encouraged her.

"You're doing great, lass," she said. "Some of the boys just need a bit of getting used to is all." Two groups called for ale now; a loud, singsongy group led by cousins Pippin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, and another group that had just walked in the door: The Miller and his son, Ted; and the Gaffer and his son, Sam. "I'll take that ruckus by the fire," she said. "You see to the Gaffer and his friends. They're a quieter lot. Find out who that red-haired boy is; I've never seen him."

"That's Sam Gamgee," Rosie said. "I've known him for ages."

"Must be his first drink," Autumn said. "Wish him a happy birthday, hmm?"

It was tradition that a boy be given his first drink by his father (or closest male relative) on the night of his coming-of-age. Rosie remembered being invited to his birthday party for that very afternoon. Her brothers had gone, but she had not. She had had her first day of work.

"Rose Cotton!" said the Gaffer.

"Hello, boys!" She had never called men "boys" before but it seemed to be the easiest bar lingo to pick up.

Said the Miller, "I didn't know you were working here."

"Missed Sam's birthday to be," said the Gaffer, patting his son's back.

"Hi, Miss Rosie," Sam mumbled, his eyes on the table.

Rosie liked the whole Gamgee relations, she really did, but Sam had always bothered her. On the one hand, he seemed to be a proper hobbit, minding his own and following his father's footsteps, like any good hobbit, and also smart and knowing his letters; on the other hand, he always seemed too quiet, which was very unhobbitlike, always thinking about things no one else seemed to think. What was worse, he never seemed to actually _look_ at Rosie. She hadn't noticed at first, until a few summers ago, when they had passed each other on the road and, in the midst of the necessary small talk, saw that he _seemed_ to be asking the right questions and answering the right answers to _her_, but in reality was addressing her left foot. What on Earth she had done to offend him so that he'd rather talk to her foot than her face, she didn't know, so she always stepped lightly around him, and took care to hide her feet.

"Well, I'm glad you came to see me, Sam," said Rosie. "What'll it be?"

The table all looked at Sam, waiting for him to order the first round of his life.

"Um," he said.

All waited. Rosie found herself smiling at him. He finally lifted his eyes, and smiled back at her.

"A round for the table, please," he said.

His Gaffer and the Miller and his son laughed and patted his back and complimented him on his fine ordering skills, "Even going so far as to say 'please,'" noted the Miller, and Rosie said, "Right away," and left to go pour Sam's round.

The hard part of the drinks was opening the lever just right, so that the brew would pour out of the barrel just right, with little foam, but also not too quickly, to knock the mug out of a barmaid's hands, or splash right out of the mug. Then came the walk back to the customer. It was filled with men, jumping, throwing their hands in the air, dancing, running, or stumbling about drunk. They hardly noticed the barmaids running around with their brew, unless they had ordered it. Indeed, one older hobbit actually knocked right into Rosie as she crossed the course to Sam's table. Brew spilled – not a whole lot, but enough to make her right hand lose its grip. Someone caught the two mugs in the hand before they fell everywhere.

Strong hands, she noticed, and covered with earth, and he smelled like work and heaven all wrapped together. She looked up, and realized it was Sam Gamgee now holding her right mugs. He was looking right back at her, for once.

"I got 'em," he said.

Rosie let go of the mugs in her right hand. His dirty, but drier, hands held on to the mugs. She took the moment to wipe her hand on her apron.

"Thank you," she said.

"It was no problem, Miss Rosie," he told her feet. "I saw him coming right towards you, and I thought there might be a, uh, situation."

She thought, _my, he smells nice._

She said, "We'd better get these to your table, hm?"

"Right," he said.

It was several steps to the table. She felt an urge to say something, anything, and she scoured her mind and finally came up with something.

"I'm sorry I missed your birthday party," she said.

They were now at the table.

"Right," he said. "Thank you, Miss Rosie."

"Thank _you_, Sam," Rosie said. She set her two remaining mugs on the table, and Sam followed suit. She smiled at him. Incredibly, he smiled back. "Call me if you need me," she said.

Then she walked away. Another customer was calling. But she suddenly felt hot – _fever_? she wondered, and she suddenly felt like turning around and looking at him again. His hair was reddish, like trees in the fall. She wondered if it was soft. The bar smelled like sweat and beer, but her nose was filled with the smell of Sam Gamgee. The smell of work – what a strange fancy, work didn't smell like anything, and he also had a mystery smell, the most pleasant scent of all.

What a pity he didn't like her enough to look her in the face when he spoke. If it weren't for that, he might have been perfect.

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(1/5)


	2. Promise is

I'm not sure what else to say here, besides I don't own this madness, thank you for the positive feedback, and I hope you enjoy it.

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"_Packed already?"_

"_No harm in being prepared."_

"_I thought you wanted to see the elves, Sam."_

"_I do."_

"_More than anything."_

"_I did. It's just…we did what Gandalf wanted, didn't we? We got the Ring this far to Rivendell and I thought, seeing as you're on the mend, we'd be off soon. Off home."_

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Rosie rolled over in her sleep, thinking. It was strange, how quickly and how slowly her thoughts went, all at the same time. She _felt_ as if she were thinking slowly, and yet she couldn't keep track of her thoughts at all.

Her father had come in, as one of the regulars, and had immediately ordered a beer from his "favorite barmaid." When she had brought him his drink, he took it and kissed her on the cheek, and all his friends had laughed. Rosie hadn't even known her father _was_ that popular.

And her brothers…

Rosie rolled over again.

They had jumped all over her when she and her father had arrived home. The younger ones had leapt on her, demanding answers, while the older ones had teased her. They had been discussing it earlier, while Rosie and her father had been at work.

"Everyone knows a new lass at the inn has a few new beaus when they come home," Tom said. "Who's yours?"

Nick and Nibs began jumping up and down on the couch, yelling possible names to each other.

"Sandyman!"

"Goodbody!"

"Proudfoot!"

"Whitfoot!"

"Maggot!"

"Boffin!"

They fell upon the couch and laughed. "Rosie Boffin!" Nibs shrieked. He bonked his head against Nick's – they whined and rubbed their heads. From a far corner of the hole, their mother Lily shouted for them to be quiet. She was ignored.

"Come on," said Jolly. "Didn't you talk to _anyone_?"

"She made eyes at Sam Gamgee," her father reported.

_Now_ they were silent. Nick actually sat up.

"Sam Gamgee?"

Her brothers tried to hide their laughter. Nick was the least successful, but Tom was the most, merely covering his twitching lips. Rosie's face became hot. Jolly laughed, "She's blushing! She's embarrassed!" which of course made Rosie giggle and cover her face. Nick and Nibs began jumping on the couch again, and Jolly began jumping around the living room. They all sang:

"Rosie loves Saaaam! Rosie loves Saaaam!"

"Rosie Gamgee! Rosie Gamgee!"

"He's a decent one," Tom said, still trying not to laugh.

Rosie tried to deny it, but her brothers were insistent on the point. She went to bed when they started planning her wedding.

Her wedding...She had always wanted a spring wedding, so there would be as many flowers in bloom as possible. The air would already be perfumed.

She sat up. Flowers made the air smell wonderful. Just like Sam did. Sam smelled the way he did because he was a gardener, working with flowers. She grinned. She wouldn't be marrying any old farmer. She would be marrying one Samwise Gamgee, gardener of Bag End, who smelled nice after work when all the other women had to deal with sweaty, stanking husbands.

If she got him to just _look_ at her every once in a while.

She lay back down in bed. "Rosie Gamgee," she said. It had a nice ring to it.

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(2/5)


	3. Broken

Rosie, Sam, nor anyone else is mine. Enjoy!

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_"Why does he hates poor Smeagol? What has Smeagol ever done to him? Master? Master carries heavy burden. Smeagol knows. Heavy, heavy burden. Fat one cannot know. Smeagol look after Master. He wants it. He needs it. Smeagol sees it in his eye. Very soon he will ask you for it. You will see. The fat one will take it from you."_

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"It's almost Yule," said Lily one morning at breakfast.

"I hadn't noticed," said Farmer Cotton, poking at the fire logs. Some embers flew into the air, but the fire didn't grow any bigger. Rosie tried not to shiver as she poured milk into Jolly's mug.

"You're getting awfully good at that, Rose," teased Jolly. Rosie stuck her tongue out at him and moved down to Nick, who politely lifted her cup up so she could pour more easily.

"I bring this up," Lily continued, "Because I was thinking it might be fun to have the Yuletide celebration at home this year." When the other Cottons looked aghast at her, she corrected herself. "I mean we have a _party_ at home."

This was met by all-around excitement. Nick and Nibs began counting on their fingers all the friends they wanted to invite, Tom began wondering aloud what girl he should invite, and their father began discussing the politics of the pub, more specifically, who he should and should not invite. Rosie smiled at all this and sat down, between Nick and Jolly.

"I'm glad to see we like this plan," Lily said.

"Best idea in years," Farmer Cotton said.

"Rosie can invite some of her beaus," Jolly said.

"You mean Sam Gamgee?" Tom asked. Her brothers all grinned at each other.

Rosie found her face growing hot, but she took a drink of milk to cover it up. "Why," she said when her face felt cool enough to put her cup down, "Do you always _do_ that?"

"Do what?" Nick looked too innocent.

"You always smile when you say 'Sam Gamgee.'"

"So do you!" Nibs giggled.

There was nothing to say to that! She took a bite of eggs to keep herself from smiling.

"I think the Gamgees will be the top of our list," Lily said with a smile.

"Mother!" Rosie cried.

"You don't _mind_, do you?" Lily's smile grew wider.

Rosie had to admit she had no problem with inviting the Gamgees.

* * *

Her wardrobe was terrible. How in the world had she ever thought she could manage with such plain dresses? Simple double-stitched dresses with two pockets on the skirt – was that _all_ she owned? What was good for working at the Green Dragon or helping her father and brothers with their chores was simply not good enough for a party. 

"Just wear what you wore last year," her mother advised.

Rosie glared at her. She had worn that _last year_.

"Anything will do," her mother said. "You look lovely in everything."

"You decide," Rosie sighed.

Lily approached the closet, and scanned the closet. "Well, I've always thought you looked very charming in your yellow dress."

Rosie looked at the dress. It was at least trying to be a pretty dress, at least, with its extra embroidering on the hems.

"Alright, I think that's a 'no,' Lily said. "Well, how about the blue dress your grandmother made for you?"

Rosie looked with more appreciation at this dress. It had nice frills on the sleeves and the collar, and very pretty buttons. But somehow, it didn't seem right. "Maybe," she said.

"Red is a very popular color this season," Lily took out Rosie's red dress, with its many bows and extra-long sleeves. She had worn it for some cousin's wedding, and it had been extremely uncomfortable, although she had received many compliments on it. "And you never wear this dress."

"I'll just wear the blue one," Rosie sighed.

* * *

He was here. She had told herself not to be nervous, and that there were more important things than Samwise Gamgee, but now he was actually _here_. She felt her hand go to her hair. It still seemed to be neat and in place. 

Now he was here. What was she going to _do_? Next to her, Daisy Maggot giggled. Rosie looked at her.

"You're so cute," Daisy said.

"Why are you smiling?" Rosie asked.

Daisy smiled all the more and said, "Why don't you talk to him?"

"I don't know what to say."

"Say _hello_."

This sounded extremely reasonable, so Rosie stood up. Daisy giggled even more. Rosie shot her an annoyed glance. Daisy gulped her giggles and said, "I wish you had been at Sam's birthday party."

"What happened there?" Rosie asked.

Daisy's grin grew broad, and she said, "Nothing of importance."

Rosie put her hands on her hips and stuck her lower lip at her. Daisy laughed. "I'm not telling you!"

Rosie sighed and turned away. She spotted Sam with Ted Sandyman and Bulbo Twofoot over by a window. She sighed, set her shoulders, and began walking forward. She looked down, to avoid stepping on anyone's toes. She looked up again. He was still seated by the window. To her surprise, he looked up. She smiled at him without thinking about it.

He looked down again.

Rosie's smile fell. What in the world?

"Miss Rosie!"

Rosie turned to see Old Noakes calling her.

"Miss Rosie," said Old Noakes, "Could you get me another round for me and the boys?"

The Miller and the Sheriff grinned and shook their empty cups. Rosie sighed, reminded herself that she was, after all, a hostess of the party, and gathered their empty cups and brought them to the sink. She rinsed them out and set them to drain, found new mugs, filled them with ale, and brought the fresh ale to their seats with the ease of a barmaid.

"All set, boys?" she asked. They nodded and raised their cups to their lips. Rosie smiled, turned, and began again to walk to Sam.

"Ah, Rose?" Widow Rumble was calling her. Rose went immediately to the elderly lady.

"Yes, Mrs. Rumble?"

"Rose," said Widow Rumble, "Be a dear and get me another drink, hm?"

Rose resisted the urge to sigh. "Yes, of course, Mrs. Rumble." She went and got Mrs. Rumble her drink and returned, and had barely made certain the glass was steady in her hands when Farmer Maggot called for a drink.

"And get me one when you're done with that, Rosie dear," said Hob Hayward.

"Yes, here too, if you please, Miss Rosie," said Olo Toadfoot.

"Please here too, if you don't mind," said the Gaffer.

"I'll get to you all as soon as I can," Rosie said.

She never got a chance to see Sam.


	4. A Long Wait

Second-to-last chapter...sorry it took so long to get up (a whole three days!), the net was acting all funky. Anyhoodle, I don't actually own all this stuff, I just write about it. Enjoy!

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"_I can't do this Sam."  
_

"_I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something."  
_

"_What are we holding on to Sam?"  
_

"_That there's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it's worth fighting for."_

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Half the Shire had been invited to Bilbo's 111th birthday party. The other half were showing up anyway. The Cottons fell into the latter half; the Gamgees fell into the former, being gardeners and good friends of the Gamgees. She had a plan this time: she was going to avoid the drinks at all costs, and even avoid the food, if possible, although her Hobbit stomach growled at the thought of all of the food she was going to miss.

She joined in all the dances that didn't need a partner, turning in circles and sashaying at the right times. She laughed when Frodo Baggins did his silly hop-dance across the floor. Whenever she got a chance, she looked for Sam Gamgee in the crowd.

He wasn't there.

She sighed and kept her smile on her face. Others boys came and asked her for a dance. A Sandydowns boy took her for a spin; Mungo Gamwich even danced an entire fast song with her. Then came another singles dance.

The dance began. Rosie kicked her feet and threw her arms in their air, as the rhythm beckoned. She looked out, and Sam Gamgee was seated at a nearby table, turned in his seat. He seemed to be looking right out at her. She smiled at him. He turned back around.

Was there _nothing_ she could do to get his attention? Old Noakes stood up on a fruit box and began calling the dance.

"Spin in a circle! One, two!"

She spun in a circle. When she spun around again, Frodo Baggins was talking to Sam.

"Bend your knees! Three, four!"

Rosie bent her knees and stood up again. Around her, people were giggling, but she couldn't help but notice that Frodo was looking from her to Sam and back again.

"Kick your feet! Five, six!"

Feeling ridiculous, Rosie began kicking her feet like a Stoor from the old tales.

"Seven, eight!"

Everyone was laughing by now, even Rosie.

"Spin in a circle! Nine, ten!"

Rosie spun around, and when she spun back, there was Sam, standing before her, looking petrified. What was more amazing, he was looking her in the face.

"Prance!" Old Noakes called.

This meant that everyone had to grab a partner and start dancing in a circle. They clasped hands, his left and her right, and he placed his other hand upon her waist, and her free hand on his shoulder, and they danced in their circle. The music played on and on.

Sam wasn't saying anything. He was looking ahead, at where they would soon be dancing. Rosie searched her mind for something to say. She remembered the Yule Party, where it had seemed so grand just to say _hello_. That didn't seem right, here.

She said, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

He said, "Yes, Miss Rosie. Are you?"

Why couldn't she be bold? "I am now," she said.

Sam ducked his head. Rosie resisted the urge to groan. This was getting annoying.

Old Noakes lifted his hand, trying to say something. He paused, thought a moment, and then fell on the ground. The musicians stopped, to see if he was alright. The dancers stopped when the music stopped, and looked and giggled at Old Noakes.

"Couldn't hold his ale," Sam said. He hadn't let go of her hand.

"He never can," Rosie said.

"Do you want some?" Sam asked.

"Ale?"

Sam nodded, looking at her feet. He was still holding her hand. Rosie smiled.

"Sure," Rosie said.

They turned, together, and began walking to the brew-barrels. "I'll admit," said Sam, "I've already had a few."

"That's alright," Rosie said. He still seemed to be walking and talking just fine. She passed Daisy Maggot walking with a Bracegirdle boy to the dancing area; they waved at each other.

"Sorry I haven't been able to come round to your family's house lately," Sam said. "I've been helping me Gaffer with the Baggins' garden."

He smelled like it.

"Do you like it?" Rosie asked.

Sam nodded eagerly. This was a topic he very much enjoyed; they were soon in a very in-depth conversation about the various plants of the Shire, especially those that grew at Bag End. Rosie, being a farmer's daughter, was very easily able to hold up her end of the conversation. _He_ poured the ale, and held her cup out to him. She smiled and took it.

Their fingers touched. He ducked his head again, and took a drink from his cup. Rosie found herself smiling at him. She could still remember how his hand felt, holding hers. She drank a deep swallow from the cup.

"Rose," someone called. Rosie looked: it was Ted Sandyman. "Rose," he said, "Would you mind getting me a…" he looked at Sam, then at Rosie. "Never mind," he said. "I'll just get it myself." He stepped forward and poured his own brew.

Rosie grinned. "I'm not just a barmaid around you," she told Sam.

He smiled back. Rosie took another sip of her drink.

"I, uh," Sam began. "I think you look pretty."

Rosie felt her face grow hot. "Thank you."

They both ducked their heads, and took a drink together.

* * *

Rosie gladly handed over four mugs of ale to Frodo Baggins. He nodded his thanks (Rosie knew he was good for it, having recently inherited his uncle Bilbo's estate) and immediately skipped off, in his queer way, to his cousins Mariadoc Brandybuck and Pippin Took. He sang along with their song, skipping circles around their table, as nearly the whole of the inn joined in song:

_Hey, ho, the dark night go_

_To heal my heart and drown my woe_

_Rain may fall and wind may blow_

_But there still be _

_Many miles to go_

_Sweet is the sound of pouring rain_

_And the stream that falls from hill to plain_

_Better than rain or rippling brook_

Here Pippin Took yelled at the top of his lungs: "Is a mug of beer inside this Took!"

Everyone laughed and turned back to their previous activities, talking and drinking. Rosie returned to drying the washed mugs, and stood ready for anyone who would come to ask for more drinks. She couldn't help herself; she looked for Sam Gamgee, sitting with his Gaffer and the Miller and Ted Sandyman, smoking a pipe and looking for all the world like the most sensible, decent hobbit there ever was.

He was looking at her.

She smiled at him.

He blinked and looked away, back at the table, where Frodo Baggins was giving the four mugs in his hands to the others sitting at the table.

She grinned into her mug. She knew he loved her.

Everyone trooped out that night in a merry spirit. There had been no brawls, just loud singing and dancing and talking. She wiped a cup clean, as something to do, while all the men walked out the door one by one, and she wished them all a good night.

Sam and Frodo walked by.

"'Night, lads," she said, with an extra smile for Sam.

Frodo nodded back, but Sam merely looked at her, and very soon passed her by. Ted Sandyman was next; he dropped down on one knee. Rosie looked down at him, very surprised.

"Good night, Sweet Maiden of the Golden Ale," he said.

Rosie and all the other barmaids giggled. "Good night, Ted," she said. She looked at Sam, who had turned around, and Frodo was patting him on the back.

"Boy," she heard him say, "Mind who you're sweet-talkin'…"

Rosie giggled even more.

"Don't worry, Sam," Frodo said was heard to say as he turned Sam back around. "Rosie knows an idiot when she sees one."

"Does she?" Sam sounded worried. Rosie felt her face grow hot. She watched him walk away, before Autumn came to close the door. It was the last anyone saw Samwise Gamgee for a very long time.

* * *

(4/5) 


	5. But A Happy Ending

Last chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed my trip through Hobbiton. Not that I own Hobbiton, or Sam and Rosie, or anything else by Tolkein. Enjoy!

-_The Author_

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"_I can see the Shire. The Brandywine River… Gandalf's fireworks… the lights… the party tree…"_

"…_Rosie Cotton dancing. She had ribbons in her hair. If ever I was to marry someone, it would have been her. It would have been her."_

"_I'm glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things."_

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Today was a day of Special Magnificence. Rosie tied her hair in ribbons to celebrate.

"Don't you look lovely," her mother said at second breakfast.

Rosie explained that today was a day of Special Magnificence.

"Maybe," said Jolly at the table, "Ted Sandyman'll propose today."

Nick and Nibs grinned. Rosie made a face at them.

Her mother set her to stirring the bread dough. "You ought to think about it," she told her. "You're no longer in your tweens, you know, and you haven't looked at a boy since Sam Gamgee left with Master Baggins for Crickhollow. You can't live like this in this house forever, you know. As much as your father and I love you." This comment went unvouched for by Farmer Cotton, in the garden with his prize pumpkin; today was November Second, the day of the annual Vegetable Weighing Contest.

Said Nibs, "We love the way you pour us drinks.

Nick jumped up and led the brothers in singing:

_We love you Rosie_

_Oh yes we do!_

_We love you Rosie_

_Oh yes it's true!_

_When you're not with us_

_We're blue!_

_Oh Rosie we love you!_

Rosie and her mother applauded and Rosie stuck her tongue out at them.

"Anyway," said Rosie, "Today, everything is going to change."

* * *

The Green Dragon was being led in song again, but not by Meriadoc Brandybuck and Pippin Took. It felt off without them standing on the table, tapping their feet and generally directing the song.

_Oh, you can search far and wide_

_You can search the whole town dry_

_But you'll never find a beer so brown_

_As the one we drink in our hometown_

_You can drink your fancy ales_

_You can drink 'em by the flagon_

_But the only brew for the brave and true_

_Comes from the Green Dragon_

Ted Sandyman jumped around, waving his arms to lead, and patting hobbit's backs. He lifted Camellia Boffin up from her seat by the waist and danced her around. Her beau, Mungo Gamwich, jumped up and chased after them. Camellia laughed and twirled when Ted lifted her arm up. When she turned back around, there was Mungo, glaring at them both. Camellia fell into his arms in a fit of giggles, and Ted leapt away. Mungo brought her back to his table, and everyone applauded.

Rosie sighed. It was all too ordinary. Something of Special Magnificence was going to happen today. Where was it?

"Rosie," said Ted, "Rosie, my pretty lass, another ale, if you don't mind."

Rosie was starting to mind Ted and his ales. At the very least, he could ask for one without puckering his lips at her. She gave him his ale without another word, and off he went, without a thank you. She glanced at Sam's old table, where his Gaffer, the Miller, and Old Noakes were gossiping away, as always. Ted's seat was empty, as its owner was currently talking to a train of other young hobbits playing a board game by the fire, but Sam's seat was occupied, by Blanco Goodbody. The other three older hobbits were fascinated by what he had to say.

The Gaffer called Autumn Toadfoot over to his table. Autumn ordered, and hurried off to Rosie.

"Rose," she said, "Do we have anything special?"

"You would know better than I would," Rosie replied. She picked up a dirty cup and started wiping it. Autumn went behind the counter and began searching the stores. Rosie suddenly remembered her Magnificent feeling, and she turned and set the cup down. "Why? What's going on?"

Autumn looked up, a skin of wine in her hands. "I don't know," she said. "All I know is it's something special enough for the Gaffer to want something specially magnificent."

The Gaffer was a steady sort of hobbit, who never really wanted anything magnificent, really; those sort of inclinations were generally left to Brandybucks or Baggins. Rosie wondered if Sam was home, from Crickhollow or wherever he was. She shook her head; she ought to get beyond that, like her mother said. She picked up her cup and starting wiping it again.

Her father brought in his prize-winning pumpkin. Everyone cheered and stood in a parade to watch him bring his pumpkin to his table. Rosie smiled, and turned and set the now-clean cup out to dry on the rack. She turned around, and saw Frodo Baggins, smiling at her, from the other side of the counter.

Her mind leapt from one thought to the next – she had always like Master Baggins – if he was back, didn't that mean Sam was back, too? – she really ought to get her mind off of Samwise Gamgee.

"Rosie," he said, "I'd like four ales, please."

Rosie gave him his four ales. He picked them up, and thanked her, like he always had. She followed his dark brown head across the room, by the column in the middle of the room. He set his four ales out, to each of his companions. He sat down. There, sitting across from him, was Samwise Gamgee.

Her hands shook. She turned to her cups. She wiped her hands on her apron. She looked up to see if anyone noticed. They were all looking at her father, as he polished his perfect pumpkin. Her father laughed loudly.

"Rosie?"

She turned, saw Mungo Gamwich.

"Rosie, can I have another two cups of brew?"

She nodded, turned, and grabbed two cups. They didn't match. She didn't care. She set them right side up, and looked up, and saw Samwise, looking at her. There was a strange look on his face.

She grinned at him, like she hadn't done in so long.

He didn't look away.

Her smile grew wider.

"Rosie?" said Mungo.

_She_ looked away, to pick up Mungo's cups and fill them with ale. She poured them, just right, and thought how, so long ago, on Sam's coming-of-age of all days, she had thought it difficult to pour some ale out of a barrel. She turned, and gave Mungo his cups. He nodded and went back to Camellia.

"Rosie?"

Sam was standing behind to the counter, where only employees could stand.

"Yes, Sam?"

She hoped he didn't ask for ale; looking at him, she doubted he would.

"Um," he said.

Her smile was so broad her cheeks hurt.

"Yes, Sam?" she said.

He reached over and took her hand. His thumb ran along her hand; the skin was harder than she last remembered.

"I don't know how to do this," he said.

Rosie shrugged, and still smiled at him. "Guess," she said.

"Alright," he said.

He leaned over and kissed her. He was soft and gentle with it; Rosie lifted up her free hand and pulled him closer to her. He let go of her hand and wrapped his both arms around her. When they finally let go of each other, Rosie was quite surprised to discover that the whole inn was applauding. Meriadoc Brandybuck and Pippin Took jumped up on their table, mugs in hand, and started a round of song:

_Oh, you can search far and wide_

_You can search the whole town dry_

_But you'll never find a beer so brown_

_As the one we drink in our hometown_

It was all magnificent.

"Rosie Cotton," said Sam, his eyes dancing, "Will you marry me?"

"Sure," said Rosie.

* * *

(5/5) 


End file.
